


Remodeling

by uumuu



Series: Remodeling [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Imprisonment, Power Play, Pre-Femslash, Treat Fic, Trick or Treat 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing her bat-fell, Thuringwethil is in a tight spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remodeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngstyChaosMagicUser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstyChaosMagicUser/gifts).



> Thanks to amyfortuna for beta reading!

The Elves had found her in one of the most inaccessible regions of Dorthonion, hiding in one of the narrow caves there, wounded and naked. She had been dragged to Himring in chains, and locked in a dank underground room to wait until the Lady of the North would have time to interrogate her. 

Thuringwethil was grateful for the lack of light, though it was the only comfort she had during those bleak days she spent curled up on the floor of her cell. 

Maedhros finally stood in front of her, still clad in her battle-armour, besprinkled with mud and orc-blood. Thuringwethil had heard of her, of course, but it was the first time she saw her. She was tall – at least as tall as the elf-woman who had nearly killed her – with red hair tied into several tight braids and fierce eyes that gleamed like stars in the gloom. 

Maedhros shone a torch in her face and studied her for a long while, in silence, her stern but ruggedly beautiful face betraying no emotion.

“I wonder if your King would recompense me if I were to return you to him,” she said at length, the mordancy of her voice as stinging as the torch-light.

Thuringwethil didn't say anything, but there was a glimmer of fear in her eyes.

It wasn't lost on Maedhros. She crouched down, bringing the torch so close to Thuringwethil's face that Thuringwethil tried to burrow into the wall at her back.

“I would have expected you to free yourself.”

Thuringwethil frowned at that. “I am powerless without my bat-skin,” she rasped. “Do you think I would have ended up like this if I had been able to fend for myself?”

“I suppose not,” Maedhros dryly rejoined. She threw the torch to the ground – it didn't burn out but its glow was diminished – and drew Thuringwethil up. The chains which bound her hand and foot rattled loudly, and were so heavy in her weakened state that she slumped forward against Maedhros's chest. Maedhros's armour was cold, but Thuringwethil could feel the heat of the elf's body underneath it. 

“I could keep you with me, if you collaborate. I want you to tell me everything you now about what is afoot in Angband, and what Morgoth's plans are. Otherwise, I will simply find a way to dispose of you.”

Thuringwethil's wounded pride was hurt even more at being addressed like that by a mere elf, but it was a fact that she didn't have many options. Going back to Angband was out of the question. She couldn't even bear to think of what Morgoth would do to her for her failure. Whatever the elf-lady had in mind would be more bearable. She could always try to flee later, once she had regained enough strength. “I will,” she whispered.

“I will not release you, not yet.” Maedhros's hand slid up her back and twisted into her matted hair, pulling it. “Why did you try to bite one of my men?” she asked, and pulled harder when Thuringwethil didn't immediately reply. 

“I need-...I need blood.”

“Blood?” 

“It's my only sustenance.” She had been given food – though not often – but it was useless to her. “Could I-...have...just some. I need it,” she said, coming so close to begging, because her need was too strong. She didn't actually expect Maedhros to comply. But Maedhros shrugged in assent. 

“I could,” she said. Her hand released Thuringwethil's hair, and crawled back to her chin. Her fingers tapped her mouth. “You will have to obey each and every one of my orders.” She paused, waiting for Thuringwethil's reaction. Thuringwethil nodded after the briefest hesitation.

“Don't bite just yet. Suck them.”

Thuringwethil opened her mouth, and took Maedhros's fingers inside it. Her tongue licked them, swirling all around the tips and between them, tasting the dirt and sweat that coated them. She sucked them, one by one, sliding her lips over them, over scars and the coarse patches of skin where calluses or windburn had hardened them. Finally, while she sucked on her little finger, Maedhros nodded to her. 

Thuringwethil at once sank her teeth into the pad of it and drew precious drops of blood. She let them pool on her tongue, held them there for a while to savour their heady flavour. She all but moaned when she swallowed them. Her eyes darted up to Maedhros's face, but Maedhros stared impassively at her and showed no intention of pulling back. Therefore she closed her eyes, and sucked forcefully, greedily, drawing all she could from the tiny wound. 

Maedhros let her do this for a long while before issuing a peremptory command: 'enough'.

Thuringwethil gave one last vigorous, almost lustful, suck and pulled back.

Their gazes locked. Thuringwethil thought of how beautiful it would have been if she could have sucked all the blood from that elf. 

Maedhros scoffed lightly, then smiled. She evidently guessed it.

Thuringwethil frowned anew. The elf shouldn't have been able to see through her like that. Or she was just too weak. She closed her eyes and once again slumped against Maedhros, whose left arm encircled her. She swirled her tongue in her own mouth, still deliciously coated with the aftertaste of Maedhros's blood. Perhaps, she thought, feeling strangely at ease, it would be even more fulfilling if she could suck her blood, a little at a time, for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> I interpret the bat-fell not to be Thuringwethil's actual skin, but a magic garment like that of the swan-maidens.


End file.
